


(can't stop) drinking about you

by symmetrophobic



Category: GOT7
Genre: College!AU, M/M, Potty Mouths, mark the dumb blonde
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-10
Updated: 2016-03-10
Packaged: 2018-05-26 22:16:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6257923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/symmetrophobic/pseuds/symmetrophobic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>jackson wang, face (and loudspeaker) of fraternity delta chi psi, is dared to ask out cute, unassuming and unknown freshman kim yugyeom. but then things take a turn for the unexpected, and jackson realises belatedly that he may have bitten off more than he can chew. got7 college!au</p>
            </blockquote>





	(can't stop) drinking about you

Jackson isn’t necessarily one to do stupid things.  
  
(Keyword here being  _necessarily_.)  
  
He’s startlingly normal, regardless of whatever Mark has to say, though Jackson has to admit, it takes one to know one, and his best friend is probably the personification of stupid. (Of course, Jackson doesn’t say this, because then he might not get invited to pool parties back at Mark’s various sprawling properties where he can ogle bikinied girls anymore.) Jackson’s a sensible, dignified man (man!!) who just does stupid things sometimes, and only as a last resort.  
  
And tonight, Jackson is quite aware the way he looks is probably the stupidest decision of this week.  
  
Well, he’s looked worse, he supposes, because finals week can testify to that, and it’s not like he hadn’t made an effort- he’d put on a decent pair of pants (“ _poop pants_ ,” Jinyoung would say derisively over the top of his literature guide book, but screw Jinyoung), and he’d tried to do something with his hair, but right now, he honestly just feels like that Shontelle song right now.  
  
He would rather be moping at home in nothing. Not even his T-shirt.  
  
*  
  
Let him be perfectly clear- in no way is this his fault. Like, fine, he’d been a  _little_  drunk at that frat party almost a month and a half ago, which may or may not have led to him suggesting a dare in the first place, and possibly insinuating that it involve asking someone out in some way, shape or form, and, okay, he’d been stupid enough to miss the triumphant look in Jinyoung’s eyes at the chance to totally destroy everything Jackson is.  
  
_But_ , the point is that Jackson totally had a clear (sort of) intention in starting this dare at all- he’d been counting on  _Mark_ , that jackass, to get the hint and dare him to ask  _Im Nayeon_  out, the girl he’d very pointedly been eyeing for like, at least three days, then. Too bad the shitty excuse for a best friend had been in some toilet cubicle then getting his wealthy dick sucked, and Jinyoung had gladly stepped up to plate.  
  
Park Jinyoung’s a junior, like Jackson, except he actually studies, and hence does decently in exams, and as a result, feels he has the right to use his brains to ruin every lesser man’s life. But this is in no way suggesting Jackson is in any way  _lesser_ \- just for the record, his  _hep hap_  style alone would trash Jinyoung’s overused preppy boy look on any day.  
  
“ _Kim Yugyeom_ ,” Jinyoung grins like the Cheshire cat, teeth glittering like razors in the flashing strobe lights. He nods towards the bar, now modestly patronised, with everyone on the dance floor or outside. Despite the haze of the alcohol, Jackson catches Yugyeom easily- it’s impossible to miss the giant, his drink untouched in front of him. He’s leaning over as Bambam, the freshman who runs his own blogshop and puts out fashion videos on Youtube every week that get at least a hundred thousand views apiece, says something to him that makes him laugh.  
  
Now Jackson knows he shares a floor with the freshman, and had come to very poignant realisation they were on vast extremes of the vertical spectrum when Yugyeom had reached up like fucking Goliath to help him get something he’d been struggling to reach off the top shelf in the cramped overpriced college minimart one night.  
  
Jackson had mumbled a  _thanks_  for that, before speeding away, sweating a little and telling himself the only reason why he felt vaguely uncomfortable around anyone who was tall enough to put their chin on his head was a primal survival instinct and nothing more.  
  
Also, Jinyoung apparently isn’t done ruining his life yet.  
  
“And don’t you pull that bullshit about you not swinging that way,” the self-proclaimed asshole smirks, obviously enjoying watching Jackson squirm. “Not after I wasted a month giving you the best orgasms of your life.”  
  
Jackson has several notable defense mechanisms in situations like these. One is feigning ignorance.  
  
“Who?” he pretends to look in the opposite direction, where Nayeon’s nestled neatly in her group of giggling girlfriends, a couple of whom are missing- Jackson’s willing to bet one of them is responsible for Mark’s absence here.  
  
“Tall kid, the one beside Bambam, and you know who  _he_  is,” Jinyoung says lazily, as though he knows he’s got Jackson trapped now. “Go on. Ask him out.”  
  
Youngjae lets out a low whistle, head resting on his open palm as he looks over to where Jinyoung had nodded to. “Wow, hyung, that’s low. Even for you.”  
  
“Why?” Despite himself, Jackson’s curious.  
  
“Gyeommie’s barely even legal,” Youngjae replies, casually ignoring the affronted look Jinyoung’s sending him. “He’s only here because Bam is, probably- he doesn’t really talk much. And no offence, but imagining you in a relationship without sex is like imagining you without a penis. Biologically and psychologically impossible.”  
  
“You think I’m some depraved pervert?” Jackson demands, affronted, almost spilling his drink in indignity. “Is that it?”  
  
“Well,” Jinyoung shrugs almost too obviously, devilish smile disappearing from his lips as quickly as it appears. “Not like you’ve done anything so far to prove otherwise.”  
  
Jackson’s halfway across the dance floor, heading for the bar, before he realises what he’s doing. And by then, it had been too late to turn back.  
  
In short, Jinyoung is a douchebag, Jackson is innocent and it’s all Mark’s fault. Really.  
  
*  
  
“Hyung!”  
  
Jackson has to brace for lightning to strike him dead, resulting in a momentary constipated version of his (still hot) Wild and Sexy™ aura, which he hopes no one sees anyway.  
  
“Yugyeom!” he tries and fails to laugh. This results in a piercing ostrich noise which causes some disturbed and concerned glances to be thrown their way. Thankfully, Yugyeom doesn’t seem to notice or care about Jackson’s odd bursts of insanity- doing nothing to quell the guilt that’s tromping around happily at the pit of his stomach, by the way. “What took you so long?”  
  
“I got hungry,” Yugyeom says, slightly embarrassed, holding up a little loaf of half-eaten milk bread, and a choir of baby angels seems to sing in the background, occasionally pausing in their chorus to give Jackson dirty looks. “Besides, I didn’t think you’d get here on time either.”  
  
“You think too lowly of me,” Jackson is vaguely aware he is, in fact, a lot lower than Yugyeom probably thinks he is, and his smile is a little more strained than normal.  
  
“I’ll just have to rework my opinion, then,” Yugyeom laughs, before he tilts his head a little in concern. “You okay, hyung? You look like you need to use the bathroom, or something.”  
  
“What?” Jackson’s sweating profusely in every area a person can sweat right now. “What, no. It’s just,” he gestures uselessly to nothing in particular. “Real hot, isn’t it? Let’s get going.”  
  
Yugyeom opens his mouth, confused, probably to say something about the fall weather and how people are walking around in scarves and sweaters, but Jackson drags him on before he can start. They set off like that, walking aimlessly down the semi-crowded shopping street.  
  
Sometime then, Yugyeom starts chattering about college and raspy wrinkled professors, and Jackson tries his very best not to enjoy himself too much.  
  
*  
  
It had taken Jackson less than twenty-four hours to realise he regretted everything.  
  
He’d been sitting with the other guys at the wooden benches outside the cafeteria, still in shock from the transition and trying to convince himself that everything was a bad dream, when Yugyeom had walked past, carrying a tray of food, and smiled.  
  
“Oh yeah,” Jinyoung yawns, still a little hungover from yesterday night, completely ignoring Jackson’s state of crisis. “You know, I still can’t believe you went through with that. I was kinda kidding.”  
  
“You were  _joking_?” Jackson wheezes. “Do you  _understand_  what you made me do?”  
  
“Wait,” Mark says, blinking obliviously over his burger, with the air of an idiot who’d had no idea how terrible he’d just made his best friend’s life become. “What’d he do?”  
  
“These assholes gave me someone to ask out, and Park Shitty Jinyoung over here chose the angel freshman from our floor,” Jackson snaps. “But of course  _you_  wouldn’t know, you asshat, not when you were holed up in the bar toilet getting your dick sucked.”  
  
“I was  _not_ ,” Mark responds, wounded. He then guzzles a fry drenched in ketchup. “We actually got a hotel room.”  
  
“Hyung,” Youngjae says, after a short pause, slowly and loudly, as one would to someone hard of hearing. “I think you’re missing the point.”  
  
“Anyway,” Jinyoung says, regarding Jackson with a muted look of pity. “I hope you know the trouble you’ve gotten yourself in now.”  
  
“You-…” Jackson almost flips Mark’s cheese fries all over Jinyoung,  _almost_ , because Youngjae neatly raps the tray down, clearing his throat. For a sophomore, he’s got plenty experience throwing his weight around this group, Jackson grumbles.  
  
“Don’t you think,” he says meaningfully. “We should think of something to help out Jackson hyung?”  
  
Jackson takes everything back. Youngjae is his saviour in this group of dirtbags.  
  
“Well, I guess you could just ignore him, kinda let it die down,” Jinyoung shrugs. “It’s not like Yugyeom’s a dumb kid, he might just figure everything out, and it’s not like he can do anything here but let it slide. He’s technically on the losing side here.”  
  
The prospect of that somehow makes Jackson feel like 300% more of a douchebag than he’s already quite ascertained he is.  
  
“Or,” Youngjae is pointedly not turning up his nose in Jinyoung’s direction. “You could actually go through with it, and date him, and see how things work out, and if they don’t, come to a proper mutual agreement that the two of you aren’t compatible,” he gives Jackson a stern look here. “Like how  _normal people_  handle relationships.”  
  
“Wait,” Mark grunts, a look of serious concentration on his face, the kind of face Jackson usually sees on him when he’s doing elementary Math worksheets and gets stuck on the first question. Honestly, Jackson’s this close to being convinced Mark made it to college riding on his shitload of money and “ _extra credit_ ” alone. “Why don’t you just  _tell_  Yugyeom you were dared to ask him out, so you don’t have to date him anymore?”  
  
There’s an extended moment of silence, in which Jinyoung very slowly and exaggeratedly rolls his eyes. Youngjae picks up a napkin and pityingly dabs a spot of cheese away from Mark’s face.  
  
“It’s a good thing you’re cute, hyung.”  
  
Jackson tunes out the sound of Mark’s general confusion and Jinyoung’s condescension, sinking in his seat, and for the first time, honestly considering his options.  
  
*  
  
“Hyung, got anymore?”  
  
Jackson blinks himself back into the present, noting, with disinterest, the pigeons flocking hopefully around him, eyeing the piece of bread in his hands.  
  
“Yeah, uh, want some?” he breaks off a bit and tosses it to Yugyeom, who catches it easily, beaming at Jackson. He scatters some crumbs on the floor, and the pigeons attack at once, hooting noisily.  
  
They’d ended up feeding crumbs of Yugyeom’s remaining bread loaf to a crowd of birds at the park after getting milkshakes, when Jackson realised belatedly that he hasn’t gotten shitfaced in the eight weeks since he’s started “dating” Yugyeom properly, as he sucks absently on the straw of his (really nice, actually) vanilla milkshake. It’d just been two months of general despair and failed brainstorming on how best to break up with Yugyeom, as Jackson had originally intended to before the first week was over, but then one week had turned into two, then suddenly they were into months, and Jackson blames homework and fencing intensives entirely for not ending it earlier.  
  
On a lesser note, though, he’s seriously considering making the switch from crappy alcohol to milkshakes entirely, as he inspects his cup fondly. They’re a lot cheaper, for one- then he can rely solely on Mark for the expensive shit.  
  
“Where do you wanna eat later?” Yugyeom asks, after Jackson’s tossed the last of the bread scraps, and is dusting his hands. His stomach does one of the tricking stunts Mark had taught him to impress the ladies during parties at the way the younger boy naturally takes his hand when they stand- from  _guilt_ , he swears. “I’m on a budget,” the younger boy admits, slightly ashamed. “I kinda lost a textbook and had to replace it- school stuff is so _expensive_.”  
  
That’s the other thing about Yugyeom- unlike Mark, he’s never been one to unconsciously flaunt his money, well, because he doesn’t have much (any, actually) to flaunt. And Jackson’s not as much of an asshole as Jinyoung makes him out to be: he actually gets sick of living on his best friend’s money whenever they go out. It’s not like Jackson’s parents  _can’t_  afford a car and weekly party allowance for him here, too, it’s just that whenever he writes back to ask for money, he thinks of his older brother, sending fat checks home every month from his various thriving businesses across China and Hong Kong, and feels vaguely sick.  
  
It’s nice to live like a normal, broke college student, sometimes. And Yugyeom makes him feel like he can live the way he wants.  
  
“That’s fine, we can just go wherever. Like that street food place we went last week,” Jackson’s become particularly fond of the one Yugyeom had introduced him to about a week back, the one with the nice ramen and pork dumplings. Honestly, who needs cafes and gourmet coffee when you can have cheap giant bowls of pork broth noodles and upsized cups of bubble tea? Screw Jinyoung and his café cravings- the next time they’re going out to eat, he’s dragging them here, unless Mark’s coming along. Jackson’s willing to bet his best friend isn’t physically capable of eating anywhere that doesn’t let you pay by credit card. “Or we could just go somewhere new, whatever’s good.”  
  
Yugyeom turns to him, eyes alight, and Jackson almost trips three times consecutively, again, from the  _guilt_ , not anything else, honestly.  
  
“Hang on, I know a  _great_  place, you’re going to love this,” Yugyeom smiles, tugging on his hand, and Jackson stumbles along, feeling both queasy and oddly entranced- it’s a combination he supposes he should be getting used to, now.  
  
*  
  
The general college populace hadn’t seemed to have much of a problem with the fact that Jackson Wang was dating some unknown freshman- half of them had too much of their own problems to deal with and the other half assumed Jackson was either out of his mind or doing this penance for some bet.  
  
(If only they knew they were all correct.)  
  
“ _Hey_ ,” Jackson looks up from where he’s packing his fencing kit to see Namjoon leaning over the railing of the stands, hands cupped around his mouth. “You coming or not?”  
  
“Wait up!” Jackson swings the bag hastily over his shoulder, foils rattling as he bounces off after the other boy. “Where are the rest?”  
  
“Already getting food,” Namjoon’s flopped over the railing like an octopus by the time Jackson climbs the stairs, shaking water out of his hair from the quick shower he’d taken. “You done? I’m starved.”  
  
The corridors are semi-dark when they get out to cross over to the canteen, and Jackson’s stomach rumbles loudly, almost loud enough to mask the sound of his phone’s obnoxious text notification sound.  
  
_From: Yugyeom  
  
how was practice hyung?? \o/ we still on for nba live 16 at the Living Room later??_  
  
Jackson smiles as he types out a quick reply ( _was gr8!! n ur on, kid, better warm those thumbs up b4 I trash u again_ ), before realising belatedly that Namjoon’s peering curiously over at his phone, and blanking out the screen so fast he almost drops his phone.  
  
“It’s nothing, just some,” Jackson laughs nervously. “Freshman kid Jinyoung dared me to date, it’s crazy, you wouldn’t believe the time he takes up.”  
  
Time spent yelling and laughing over pizza and soda, playing video games Mark and Jinyoung won’t indulge him with because they’re too busy studying or hooking up, skyping at 3am though both of them are rushing through homework and the last thing they need is a distraction, getting late night bubble tea and unhealthy street snacks, noting the way Yugyeom deliberately ask vendors for non-spicy fried chicken because he knows Jackson can’t take spicy food and doesn’t know how to speak their dialect.  _Obviously_ , Jackson tries to convince himself, time very much wasted.  
  
“ _Oh_ , shit, really? A bet?” Namjoon looks disappointed. “ _Damnnit_ , I owe Taehyung ten bucks now, I’m already low on cash.”  
  
“Wait, why?” Jackson demands. “You guys didn’t-…?”  
  
Namjoon looks sheepish. “Taehyung said it was definitely a bet, and well yeah, in hindsight I guess that was pretty damn obvious, but I don’t know, it looked kinda real to me. I mean,” he gestures carelessly at Jackson, who looks affronted. “You looked kinda happy with that kid, and all that shit. But true, why you’d hook up with someone like that- now that I think about it, it doesn’t really make sense.”  
  
“You guys  _bet_  on it?” Jackson despairs. Is  _nothing_  sacred anymore?  
  
“Hey, you’re one to talk, asshole, playing some freshman like that,” Namjoon snorts. “Damn, for a moment there I could’ve sworn it was real, though- you know I  _checked_ , all those times you were smiling at your phone in lecture,” Namjoon frowns. “You were watching porn, weren’t you?  _Shit_ , and here I was thinking you were texting him.”  
  
Jackson opens his mouth, and shuts it. He  _had_  been texting Yugyeom during his Lit lecture today, about his professor and how audio clips of her voice could be used as effective treatments for insomnia, but he honestly doesn’t remember  _smiling_ \- had he been smiling? But he smiles at a load of stuff- does he smile when Mark texts him? Doesn’t everyone smile when they get cute, funny texts? He’s probably overanalysing this, isn’t he? And since when were texts from Yugyeom cute and funny?  
  
“Just for the record though,” Namjoon announces, barging through Jackson’s convoluted train of thought. “You guys would’ve made a pretty cute couple. Weird as shit,” he scrunches up his face, here, thinking hard about it. “But cute.”  
  
Jackson’s heart skips little twinkletoe steps here, totally unmanly and everything vaguely Wang™-related, and his mouth betrays him.  
  
“You think so?” he croaks, and Namjoon raises a brow.  
  
“You’re not, uh, seriously dating, are you?” he looks Jackson up and down, before quickly adding, “if you are, you’d better spit it out, my money’s riding on this.”  
  
“ _What_?” Jackson laughs hollowly, stomach sinking low with disappointment. “No, what, of course not, that’d be strange, right? I mean, he’s just a freshie, and I’m me- it’s so  _weird_ , right?”  
  
They enter the cafeteria here, the noise and smell of food distracting, and Namjoon scoffs just loud enough for Jackson to hear.  
  
“Yeah, well the thing is, genius, you’re weird too,” he says pointedly, as they search for the rest of the guys. “Besides, you’re going to let what a couple of people say affect who you like? Just do whatever, man. I’m not even saying this for the bet anymore,” he shrugs, eyes flicking towards a plate of steaming ddeokbokki with interest, before looking ahead again. “If you wanna be with that kid, then date him. And if anyone wants to give you shit for it,” Namjoon shrugs. “Not like you ever cared before.”  
  
Then he dumps his bag on Jungkook at their table, eliciting a loud whine as the freshman almost spills his miso soup, and Jackson numbly puts his foils down, Namjoon’s words echoing in his head.  
  
“Also,” Namjoon whispers, as they head off to get food. “Not a word about this to Taehyung. I’m just hoping he forgets.”  
  
“Yeah,” Jackson says weakly, stumbling into line at a random stall, feeling both downright miserable and confused. “I hope so too.”  
  
*  
  
They end up at some quiet family diner tucked away in between a convenience store and a bookshop, and a bell tinkles as Yugyeom pushes open the door, holding it just long enough for Jackson to walk in.  
  
“They have the  _best_  samgyupsal here,” Yugyeom says, voice low, like he’s telling a secret, as they walk up a charming oak spiral staircase in their socks, having left their shoes below. “A little pricier than the ramen, but still way better than the stuff they cheat us with nearer campus.”  
  
Jackson jumps when something barks at the door up ahead, and Yugyeom laughs. “Did I tell you about their main attraction?”  
  
He opens the door, then, and behind a little gate up ahead, Jackson just barely glimpses a puppy yapping excitedly, front paws up on the bars. That one’s joined by another one, gambolling straight into the other one, and they both roll over, messes of white fur and huge dark eyes.  
  
“Oh,  _hey_ ,” Jackson grins, as he closes the door behind them while Yugyeom opens the gate, allowing the puppies to run straight at him, one tripping over itself and falling in its haste. “ _Shit_ , they’re so cute,” he picks one up, chuckling as it struggles out, running rounds around his legs and nipping at his jeans.  
  
“They are, aren’t they,” Yugyeom laughs breathily. “I’ll just go and make our orders first- you wanna stay here first?”  
  
“Yeah, I’ll just be here,” Jackson says, watching the puppies run, so entranced he almost doesn’t hear the sound of Yugyeom leaving.  
  
He’s sitting by a potted plant, surrounded by a litter of four puppies all climbing over him and licking his hand and nipping at his toes, by the time Yugyeom comes back to collect him.  
  
“You like puppies?” Yugyeom asks once they’re seated, pouring a glass of water for him, while Jackson wipes his hands clean with a couple of wet tissues.  
  
“Nah, just,” Jackson shrugs. “My roommate Mark used to have one, Coco, he bought it with a friend of mine. He used to keep it in our dorm, but I guess he kinda got bored of it, so now she stays with my friend. I just kinda miss having a pet around.”  
  
“Ah,” Yugyeom grows quiet. “Does he do that a lot?”  
  
“What? Buy puppies?” Jackson takes a sip of water, dumping the tissues in the little waste bin beside their table.  
  
“Buy things,” Yugyeom shrugs. “I suppose he was behind some of the nice parties back at the Delta Chi Psi house.”  
  
“Oh, yeah, that,” Jackson snorts at the mention of his fraternity. “You know he threw the party that I was-…that, uh, I asked you out at.”  
  
“He did,” Yugyeom doesn’t look particularly concerned. “Bam brought me to that one, he said I needed to get out somewhere.”  
  
“Bambam?” Jackson squints a little, brought to the sudden realisation that Yugyeom does, indeed, have a close friend pretty high up on the college food chain. “You know I never got to ask, how’d you meet him?”  
  
Yugyeom shrugs, gaze flicking away when the food comes. “Dance.”  
  
An uncomfortable memory’s jogged at that word, but Jackson’s also successfully distracted when a smiling old lady, draped in emerald and black shawls, brings over a plate of raw samgyupsal, along with two bowls of rice and a steaming pot of kimchi stew.  
  
“So  _this_  is the boy,” she says, eyes twinkling at Jackson as she unloads the tray, and Yugyeom laughs- cheeks colouring slightly, while Jackson blinks, feeling a little out of place. “You know,” she sighs at Jackson, whilst putting the rice bowl in front of him with wrinkled fingers, elaborate ornate rings clacking sharply against the stainless steel. “He’s never here without the others, you should hear how loud they can get at night when my other customers are trying to eat-…” she pauses here to turn on the grill with a noisy  _crack_ , before setting a pair of metal tongs down beside Jackson’s hand, patting it with a wink. The callouses on her hand are almost as uncomfortable against his skin as her bejewelled rings. “Has he ever told you about the time he and this girl-…”  
  
“Ahjumma,” Yugyeom clears his throat, and the old lady laughs, clapping.  
  
“Excuse this old lady- I thought he was one of them,” she says, feigning innocence as she takes two cans of soda from the old cooler near the next table, setting them down, with cups of ice. “Well then, have a good meal, enjoy yourselves well.”  
  
She bows out, returning to serve another customer, and Jackson tries not to stare as Yugyeom sprinkles some oil on the grill nonchalantly.  
  
“Who’s  _them_?” Jackson finally decides to pry after a minute of silence, and Yugyeom looks up, blinking innocently.  
  
“My friends,” the younger boy shrugs, laying some meat on the grill. “Hey, side dishes are self-service here, I’m gonna get some,” he smiles, sliding out of the booth. “Be right back. Don’t let the meat burn.”  
  
“Yeah,” Jackson says lamely as he watches the other boy walk off, not before exchanging some choice words with the old lady, now standing at the counter, who glances knowingly at him once more, like she knows something Jackson doesn’t.  
  
He has a feeling he knows exactly what Yugyeom’s talking about.  
  
*  
  
Jackson’s five weeks into their not-relationship when he realises he may have bitten off a little bit more than he could chew.  
  
_I’m in the dance club_ , Yugyeom had said several times, smiling over the top of his chocolate shake, nodding in the general direction of a certain part of town.  _We have sessions outside. Sorry I can’t make it for that movie on Saturday- I have a competition._  
  
Jackson’s walking back towards the college from a studio somewhere in town as dusk falls, foils and gear clanking in his bag, thinking of things to kill time with while he’s out here, before going to meet Youngjae and Mark back at the college for dinner, when he remembers Yugyeom mentioning something about having practice around here.  
  
_Why not_ , he thinks lazily, wandering down the alley he vaguely remembers seeing Yugyeom disappear into whenever they head into town together, where he says he goes for dance, while Jackson heads to the fancy fencing studio uptown, where he can actually get a good round of practice in without having to listen to the noise of the gymnasts they share a room with at the college, or smelling disgusting gym mats.  
  
He gets a hint he might not exactly be in the right place when he passes a couple of girls, decked out in loose white tees, black tights and scuffed sneakers, who stare at him as he walks past, just long enough for Jackson to see the dull studs glittering in one of their nose piercings, and he hurries on, slightly uncomfortable.  
  
Jackson passes a boy next, in loose black pants and the same white tee that the girls had been wearing, except the shirt’s slung over one shoulder, fully displaying a back glistening with sweat over a (honestly rather cheesy, but Jackson’s not about to express an opinion like that over here) black and red dragon tattoo stretching from his navel to his shoulders. He hears music, now- girls and guys frame the alley, talking and joking casually, some paying him no attention, but Jackson sees a high schooler, Lee Chaeyeon, whom he only recognises because he’d seen her at one of Mark’s parties she must’ve crashed, lean over to whisper something to a boy with cheap bleached highlights, who grins, glancing over at Jackson, lip ring glinting in the lowlight.  
  
The primal flight instinct is blaring like a megaphone at the back of Jackson’s head now, though he has no idea why- it’s disrespectful, right? To judge a book by its cover? So he forages on, searching with muted desperation for some sort of corner up ahead he can round to get out of here. He’s not  _scared_ , or anything, just to clarify- he’s just a little uncomfortable, that’s all.  
  
“Hey,” someone calls out, and Jackson flinches, a little, giving a sideways glance to make sure he’s the one not being spoken to. “Pink shirt,” another girl with bold eyeliner joins, looking Jackson up and down. “You lost or something?”  
  
_What the hell, it’s obviously salmon_  Jackson thinks, but doesn’t voice it.  
  
“Actually, I’m,” Jackson clears his throat, uncomfortable beyond belief by the sudden change in dynamics- he’s usually the one taking control of things around school, so being so out of the loop like this is way out of his comfort zone. “I’m looking for Yugyeom. Kim Yugyeom, he’s here, isn’t he?”  
  
The eyeliner girl raises a brow, like she’s surprised. “He’s probably with the boss,” she laughs, nodding towards a rickety aluminium chair. “Why don’t you take a seat? He might be a while.”  
  
Jackson sits cautiously while she disappears- some of them are starting to gather, some fading back into the crowd, while others drift closer, watching him with mild curiosity. Some of them are looking at his bag of gear, Jackson realises.  
  
“Foils,” he says, when someone actually leans over the table to prod the bag, chuckling nervously. “For fencing.”  
  
“Fencing,” a boy with oversized black frames and a helix piercing grins. Chaeyeon, now at the fringe of the group with a couple of girls, muffles her laughter into her friend’s shoulder. “Really?”  
  
Jackson’s a little affronted, about to say something along the lines of  _hello, I’m actually sitting right here_ , when another girl calls out.  
  
“Hey, I know you,” she emerges from the loose crowd, eyes alight. “You’re Jackson Wang, aren’t you? From Delta Chi Psi?”  
  
There’s a whisper that rushes through the forest of people, and Jackson chuckles, starting to loosen up a little- his frat does have a pretty big name, and that should give him a little diplomatic immunity around here, right?  
  
“Yeah, that’s me,” Jackson shrugs, like it isn’t a big deal. Helix Piercing Boy breaks into a smile.  
  
“Really? Hey, that’s pretty cool,” he plops into the seat opposite Jackson, arm propped on the old wooden table between them. “My name’s Jaehyung, I do bboy and tricking,” the college junior accepts Jaehyung’s outstretched hand with a grin, shaking it quickly. “You must be pretty big over at that fancy school, right?”  
  
“No, what? Not really-…” Jackson protests, shaking his head.  
  
“Look at him bullshitting,” a girl with teal dyed tips lets out a sharp laugh- a breath of laughter runs through the veins of the group, all of them watching with a particularly anticipatory sort of interest, except in the semi-darkness, it’s beginning to border on hunger. “Who hasn’t heard of you over there? Momo goes to college, doesn’t she,” most of the heads swivel to glance over at another girl, maybe a sophomore, with a head of platinum bleached hair tied in a tight ponytail, leaning against the wall nearer the back, watching with a reluctant sort of curiosity. “He’s pretty big, isn’t he?”  
  
Momo, if that’s her name, doesn’t even look at Jackson. “Sure.”  
  
“Guess we’ll just have to find out for sure,” Teal Girl says, brow raised, and Chaeyeon bursts into giggles with her friend, sharp dark eyes narrowed into slits with mirth.  
  
“Here, want one while you wait? Hope you don’t mind sweets- they’re just a couple of leftovers from our Halloween bash,” Jaehyung pulls open a bag of Twix from the mini stash of snacks they’ve got under the table, sliding it across the table to Jackson. “So, how do you know Yugyeommie?”  
  
“Oh,” Jackson says, vaguely aware he’s under the obligation to take one, slightly distracted. “I know him from college, I’m just his-…”  
  
It then occurs to him Yugyeom might not have shared a certain vital piece of information with his friends here yet, so Jackson pauses, mind scrambling for a quick story.  
  
“Friend,” he finishes lamely. Whether or not they believe this, though, he has no idea, because Teal Girl glances to her left, before slipping so swiftly back into the crowd all Jackson can catch are the tips of her dyed hair, before she’s gone, like smoke through his fingers.  
  
He figures out why in a split second, because Lip Ring boy is pushed aside, and Yugyeom enters the area- Jackson realises then that a literal crowd has formed around him, leaving him with just a narrow radius of space.  
  
“What’s that,” his voice is  _different_ , here- Jackson splutters a little as Yugyeom takes the chocolate out of his hands, throwing it at Jaehyung, who bats it away, but otherwise looks very nonchalant at the happenings. “ _Fucktard_ , why’d you give him one of those?”  
  
“Was worth a shot,” the other boy, still seated, shrugs, poking at Jackson’s foils. “What’s it to you?”  
  
Yugyeom doesn’t reply to that, instead pulling Jackson bodily out of his chair, thrusting his bag into his hands, before half-dragging him out of the place, the older boy stumbling magnificently behind him.  
  
“What are you  _doing_  here?” Yugyeom demands once they’re in a quieter alley- Jackson wonders how he isn’t feeling cold at all in that thin white tee and black pants.  
  
“You said you came here for dance, I had some free time before going back to Mark’s for dinner, so I thought I’d just come by,” Jackson says indignantly, feeling a lot more stressed now than he’d been before. “What was all that? I didn’t recognise anyone from the college in that group. You said you were from the college dance club, right?”  
  
“It’s…it’s another group,” Yugyeom says defensively. “Most of them aren’t even in college. I’ve known most of them since high school, that’s it,” he glances over his shoulder. “Why’d you listen to Jaehyung?”  
  
“What, the glasses boy with the helix piercing?” Jackson blinks. “Why?”  
  
“You’ve been to frat parties, what does it look like?” Yugyeom retorts, nodding to the chocolate smears on Jackson’s fingers, and realisation sinks in properly, then, along with a hint of dread.  
  
“That was… _drugged_?” Jackson croaks. “Wait, but I don’t get it-…why?”  
  
“You’re from college. You fence. You’re in an uptown frat. What other reason do they need?” Yugyeom seems a little frustrated with Jackson’s ineptitude here. “They’d have been worse if you were Mark, just consider yourself lucky it was only Jaehyung and not Younghyun who got to you first.”  
  
Jackson takes a numb step back, shuddering as he thinks of what might’ve happened if Yugyeom had arrived just a couple minutes later, hefting his fencing gear a little higher over his shoulder reflexively.  
  
“Gyeom, what-…what do you do here?” he finally asks, glancing nervously past Yugyeom’s shoulder.  
  
“I dance,” the younger boy replies shortly, before sighing, checking his watch. “You should probably get back to campus- before Mark decides to ditch you to chase another skirt. I’ve got to get back, I just left someone important hanging because you-…”  
  
“Yugyeom?”  
  
Yugyeom whips around so hard he almost sends Jackson spinning- another man’s coming up the alley now, but Jackson can tell immediately, by the relaxed ease with which he walks, the commanding glint to his pitch black eyes, that this is probably the important person Yugyeom left hanging.  
  
“Who’s he,” he doesn’t even bother to phrase it like a question. “How’d he get here.”  
  
“He’s a friend of mine, Jaebum-hyung, I told him to meet me at the-…the convenience store outside to get something,” Yugyeom lies. “But I was late, so he came looking for me instead.”  
  
The boy doesn’t respond right away- he’s looking at Yugyeom, jaw set lazily, piercings glinting all the way up the lobes of his ears, dark red hair falling into his eyes, before he nods to the right.  
  
“Get him out of here,” he says, already losing interest as he turns around, heading back. “Then go back to the usual place, we’re not done discussing.”  
  
“Okay, hyung,” Yugyeom waits, hand tightly gripping Jackson’s, until Jaebum disappears around the corner, before pulling him along in the other direction, till they’re back on the main street.  
  
“Yugyeom,” Jackson starts, fervently wiping the chocolate smears on his jeans, trying to forget that’d ever happened. “I don’t-…they’re not, I don’t feel good about those people.”  
  
“ _Those people_  are my friends, hyung, just like  _those people_  in your frat are yours,” Yugyeom looks both irritable and tremendously relieved. “We caught Jaebum-hyung in a good mood this time, I’m just glad he let us both off,” he cuts in before Jackson can interrupt him. “Look, Mark’s probably waiting for you- you should go back. See you back at campus.”  
  
And with that, he disappears back into the alley, glancing back once to check on the older boy, and that’s the last Jackson ever hears of this.  
  
He tries to bring it up the next day, through text, skype, face to face, but Yugyeom’s skilled at evading the topic, and soon Jackson resigns himself to forgetting it, pretending it doesn’t exist, just like the younger boy does so well.  
  
Prior to that day, Jackson saw Yugyeom in a one-dimensional light- a cute, oblivious freshman, juggling studies and friends and a little strapped for cash, and he’s not quite sure if he likes what he knows now.  
  
This adds yet another warning bell on top of the ones already going off in his head, screaming at Jackson to  _break it off, break up with him now before you’re in too deep,_  but something tells him it’s already too late, that he’s already laid down roots in the other boy’s life, and to rip all of it up and leave now would be too painful for both of them.  
  
(It occurs to him belatedly that he should be worried, too, about potential recoil from Yugyeom’s crew if it does get out that he’d tricked the younger boy into dating him. The idea of that poses a lot less fear than what might become of Yugyeom if he stays around them. Jackson ends the thought by concluding he probably was born with stunted survival instincts.)

*

“You’re tired.”  
  
Jackson snaps out of his thoughts, realising that they’re back on campus grounds, and Yugyeom gives him a strange look, like he’s about to laugh.  
  
“You okay?” he takes Jackson’s hand, nudging him with his shoulder, and Jackson makes an affronted noise.  
  
“Just got a load of homework I have to get through tonight,” Jackson grumbles, heading towards the dorms. “Don’t laugh- I bet you’ve let a lot of shit pile up too.”  
  
“True that,” Yugyeom sighs. “Skype at two?”  
  
“Great, that’s like three hours to try to be productive before you barge into my screen and wreck all that,” Jackson grins, but his smile disappears as he hears the sound of a familiar group of people around the corner of the semi-crowded common room. “Hey,” he glances back at Yugyeom, feeling sweat start to prickle at the base of his neck. “See you later, okay? I gotta go now,” he chuckles faintly, guilt stabbing him in the gut as Yugyeom’s face configures into an expression of resignation once he gets it. “Better get that homework done.”  
  
He dissociates from Yugyeom, covering the room in ten vital steps before he grabs Jungkook’s hand, grinning, pulling him into a quick bro hug. He glances back once quickly, but Yugyeom’s already gone.  
  
“A little shabby for the party,” the freshman snickers- his college diplomatic immunity runs deep, from being the youngest member of Namjoon’s frat to being able to maintain a solid 4.0 GPA despite showing up at every party their frat gets invited to. “Don’t you think?”  
  
“Party?” Jackson repeats blankly, and Jin rolls his eyes subtly.  
  
“Uh, Jihyo’s sorority bash?” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, and Jackson’s eyes widen in realisation.  
  
“Right,” he breathes. Mark had mentioned something about Delta Chi Psi being invited to that, but it’d flown over Jackson’s head during the last meeting. He wonders why, for a moment, before remembering he’d been busy sending Yugyeom pictures of Jinyoung’s head photoshopped onto various nude Greek statues, because the two of them had had an argument that morning. “That.”  
  
“You know we haven’t seen you around in  _ages_ ,” Taehyung wraps an arm around his neck, dragging him along with them as they move along to exit the building. “Been busy with that freshman, haven’t you?”  
  
“What freshman?” Jackson says weakly, voice considerably lower- he looks around, just making sure Yugyeom isn’t around any longer, before feeling slightly more at ease, then a  _lot_  more guilty.  
  
“He make for a good fuck?” Yoongi asks conversationally. “That’s why you’ve been keeping him around, right?”  
  
“Actually,” Jackson says, a little louder, not knowing why that statement rubs him the wrong way. “We haven’t slept together.”  
  
“Oh,” Jungkook frowns at Jackson’s tone. “Well chill, man, we just don’t really know any other reason why you’d stick around him- I mean it can’t be for his money. Oh-…wow, okay listen to this, I’ve been wanting to tell you guys for ages,” he turns back to make sure the rest of them are listening, with a grin. “I share classes with the kid, and we’re stuck doing projects sometimes. We asked him to look a couple of vids up on the internet when we were there,” he rolls his eyes. “He couldn’t- his phone runs on a 200 megabyte data plan. His books are all second-hand too, they’ve got dicks graffitied onto every page, it’s hilarious.”  
  
Jackson wants to say something, but the rest of them laugh, and he falls silent.  
  
“We’re just saying,” Jin says, once they’re outside, and the guffaws subside. “You know, Jackson- don’t you have better things to do?”  
  
“You’ve forgotten,” Jimin retorts, grinning. “He hasn’t even done the freshman yet.”  
  
“You know,” Jackson announces, having had just about enough, wriggling out of Taehyung’s grasp. “You guys go ahead, I’ve got a lot of shit piled up, I better just give this one a miss and-…”  
  
“What are you talking about?” Yoongi shoves him forward, looking annoyed. “We’re already here,” he looks Jackson up and down, dark eyes narrowed in suspicious slits. “You know, you’ve been acting weird, Jackson, going AWOL for parties, actually giving a fuck about homework, and Jin tells us you turned down Mina when she was practically begging you to fuck her a couple weeks back- it’s that freshman, isn’t it? He’s doing something to your head.”  
  
They’re all staring, forming an indistinct semicircle around Jackson, and he feels oddly cornered by the people who are supposed to be his friends. So he falls back on his first line of defence, chuckling weakly and shoving Yoongi back.  
  
“Loosen up, asshole, or I’ll have to do it for you,” he grins, and Taehyung shrieks with laughter, probably just glad he’s going to get to go to his party after all. “No one does anything to my head unless they’re giving it.”  
  
“Yeah, that sounds more like you,” Namjoon wraps an arm around him, dragging him up the stairs, towards the sound of the music and people, and Jackson resigns himself to the reality that he’ll just be dragged everywhere people want him to be in life. “C’mon, let’s go. Mark and Jinyoung are already in there, and it’s a sorority party, man,” the rest of them snicker. “Jihyo’s entire lineup is going to be out and about tonight, and if you’re going to miss the drinks and the dancing, at least don’t miss the girls.”  
  
*  
  
Jackson disentangles himself from Namjoon as soon as they enter under the pretence of going to find Mark, planning to slip out through the back door, but then he bumps into Jinyoung, grinding against some guy he’s never seen before on the dancefloor, obviously drunk. Jackson scuttles away just as the other guy puts his hand down Jinyoung’s back pockets, pulling him closer, and walks into Mark, hand in hand with (speak of the devil) Myoui Mina, Jihyo’s sorority freshman, both giggly and intoxicated.  
  
“Hey, man,” Mark half-shouts over the music- there’s a ridiculously cheesy lipstick stain near his mouth, and his expensive red dye job is in a mess. Mina’s pleated skirt is rumpled, crop top bunched a little, and Jackson cringes, not wanting to think about what they’d been doing before this. She stares him down, one arm wrapped possessively around Mark’s shoulder, as if expecting him to get down on his knees and beg for her to come back, now that she’s snagged his best friend. “Got any protection? Used up all of mine last week.”  
  
“Yeah, sure,” Jackson mumbles, pulling a condom out of his wallet (he’d put that in two months ago- that’s how long he’s gone without a hookup, he realises) and tossing it to Mark. Mina lets out a giggly shriek, clinging onto Mark’s arm, and Jackson sidles away as they leave, the girl stumbling in her six-inch boots.  
  
Now feeling vaguely displaced, Jackson wanders to the bar, shouting an order to the bartender he thinks the girl can’t hear anyway, because she makes him something that doesn’t look at all like the shot he’d wanted.  
  
She slides it over, and Jackson struggles to catch it, almost spilling it on the boy sitting next to him. He mutters out an apology, before realising-…  
  
“Shit, man, I didn’t even see you,” he breaks out into a proper, real smile for Youngjae, only to falter a little at the crestfallen look on the other boy’s face. “What’re you doing here by yourself?”  
  
“Jinyoung’s sucking cock,” Youngjae says matter-of-factly, gesturing vaguely behind him without turning around, clearly already a little buzzed. “And Mark’s getting his cock sucked,” he points upwards to the second level. “And you haven’t been around for weeks.”  
  
“Oh,” Jackson says, sipping his drink uncomfortably, grimacing a little. Discreetly, he wishes he had a supersized oreo cookie milkshake with him right now. “Uh.”  
  
He’s never dealt with a drunk Youngjae before- he’d always been the one to get drunk first, he realises, when they still went out together. Whatever happened after that, he didn’t know and he didn’t care.  
  
“Not in the mood for a fuck?” Youngjae asks conversationally, fingers circling the rim of the glass, staring down in disinterest at his drink. Had he always cussed this much? Jackson doesn’t remember.  
  
“Not really,” Jackson mumbles, knocking back his drink. It barely does anything- his face doesn’t even feel warm. They probably watered the alcohol down, he thinks. This doesn’t matter, because the bartender’s already making him another one, this one in some ghastly shade of cough-medicine pink.  
  
There’s an awkward pause, before Jackson decides he should at least try to be a good friend and offer a listening ear.  
  
“So,” he offers. “Wanna talk about it?”  
  
He regrets it immediately.  
  
“You know,” Youngjae says after a flat, cold pause, twirling his glass bitterly, before tipping the rest of the drink down his throat. “I used to think, if you loved someone enough, if you did everything you could to show them how much you care, if you were always there,” he rolls his eyes a little here. “Even if both of you were completely different, they’d love you too.”  
  
Jackson doesn’t quite know what to say, or who Youngjae’s talking about, even, so he sits silently, deciding to let Youngjae rant.  
  
“You think just because you’ve got a lot of your parents’ money,” Youngjae jabs a finger at Jackson, who jumps, his mind a mess of  _oh shit what did I do I didn’t do anything what do I do_. “You think just because you’re so fucking popular, because girls and boys fall at your feet with their legs open whenever you walk by, because you were blessed with a great face and you know how to do a couple of fancy tricks,” he lets out a sharp laugh. “You think you can mess with someone’s heart because of that?”  
  
Jackson’s a little slack-jawed, stunned that Youngjae would throw it all out in the open like that- has he always been thinking about it this way? Why didn’t he say anything earlier?  
  
“Some people have  _feelings_ ,” Youngjae snarls, looking back into his glass. “Just because some fuckers were born without hearts doesn’t mean the rest of us have to be okay-…” he chokes up a little, and Jackson resists the urge to pat his back. “Okay when we realise you don’t care. That you never will.”  
  
“Look,” Jackson’s feeling progressively worse and more uncomfortable- he didn’t think  _Youngjae_ , of all people, would throw him and shoot him while he’s down like this, but then again, he should’ve expected this. Youngjae would be the only one who cares enough to do it. “Look, I know what I’m doing is wrong, but it’s-…it’s different with him. I’m-…I don’t know, I’m confused as fuck too, okay? I kind of, sometimes,” Jackson doesn’t know why it’s all coming out now- it occurs to him that Youngjae’s the only person whom he thinks might be able to help.  
  
“I feel like I wouldn’t mind, you know, dating him properly, but sometimes-…” he takes a deep breath, squeezing his eyes shut. “I’m just scared as fuck, you know? I’m scared I’ll have to give everything else up just to be with him without looking over my shoulder every five seconds- these are people I care about, my  _friends_ , my frat brothers,” he looks at Youngjae, eyes pleading with him to understand. “I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to do.”  
  
Youngjae stares at him, frowning a little, eyes unfocused from the alcohol.  
  
“Who are you talking about?”  
  
Jackson blinks. “What?”  
  
“Mark. I’m talking about Mark,” Youngjae says, gears clicking behind his dark eyes, and Jackson’s mind  _reels_. “You’re talking about Yugyeom, aren’t you?”  
  
“Wait, you-…” Jackson glances wildly at the stairs. “You and Mark? Really? You like Mark?”  
  
Youngjae scoffs quietly, taking another drink. “Trust someone like you not to notice.”  
  
“I never knew,” the fencer stares, baffled. “But he just-…he and Mina-…”  
  
“I  _know_ ,” Youngjae snaps, and Jackson immediately shuts up.  
  
“Why don’t you,” he eventually mumbles, as Youngjae finishes the other drink. “You know. Tell him?”  
  
Youngjae looks at him like he’s just realised just how stupid Jackson actually is.   
  
“How about you tell me why you started dating Yugyeom in the first place?” he says, eyes dark, apparently not under any inhibition to back while under the influence. “You wanna know why I can’t tell someone like Mark I like him? Because of people like you, Jackson. Because some people will just never take relationships seriously, and people like  _you_  make that seem okay, so it’s Yugyeom’s fault if he ever once believed you loved him when you up and go. You know sometimes I wish I was  _just_  like you and Mark,” he spits, eyes flashing. “So I could hurt people the way you do and blame them for it.”  
  
Jackson stares at Youngjae, the younger boy’s form crumpled and quiet against the bar table, now, his glass empty and dangling dangerously from his slack fingers, back rising and falling with laboured breaths.  
  
“Youngjae,” he starts uncertainly. “Fuck, I never knew-…”  
  
“I know,” Youngjae mumbles, staring dead into his glass. “I guess that makes it okay.”  
  
They sit in silence for a while longer, before Youngjae gets up heavily, shoulders hunched.  
  
“I’ll help you-…” Jackson starts, but Youngjae pushes his hand away.  
  
“Go away,” he sways a little as he stands, head ducked, taking the single step down from the bar. “If you want to disappoint someone else further, how about you just go tell Yugyeom the truth.”  
  
Jackson feels spectacularly like a pile of elephant shit as Youngjae disappears into the crowd, then, the desolate hunch of his back barely visible in the throng of people.  
  
He’s got half a mind to get up and follow the younger man back to make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid, when someone props themselves up on the barstool Youngjae had just evacuated, glittery gold stilettoes clicking against the foot ring.  
  
Im Nayeon props her pretty face up on her open palm, fake extension nails sparkling in the most impractical ways against her cheeks, blush blossoming under from both makeup and alcohol. Her hairline glistens with a little perspiration, slightly breathless, chest rising and falling rapidly after the dancing.  
  
“Buy me a drink?” she smiles- crossing her slender legs, so, on purpose or accidentally, her pleated miniskirt slides back, revealing the tops of her black lace garter. Jackson briefly wonders if that’s the fashion now. “You know I haven’t seen you around in the  _longest_  time, Jackson-oppa. Where’ve you been?”  
  
“Around,” Jackson gives a strained smile, wondering whether to be polite or to walk away. He’s not quite sure if there’s a way to do both without it coming back to bite him in the ass- Jihyo’s got connections outside of college, and he’s heard stories about what happens to people who mess with her girls. To be polite, he turns to the bartender. “One bloody mary, please.”  
  
Nayeon smiles, clearly pleased. “You still remember,” she tilts her head, high ponytail falling to one side- she’s sprayed that with glitter hairspray, too. She gives him a coy smile. “You know a little bird happened to talk this evening,” her dark eyes flick up to his, stare bold and challenging, as Jackson accepts the drink from the bartender. “Told me you were interested. And if you weren’t,” she plucks the drink from Jackson’s hand, taking a sip. “You are now.”  
  
Jackson wonders why he isn’t more excited this is happening- after all, the whole mess with Yugyeom had been started because he wanted Nayeon. He could just do it, tonight, break it off with the freshman tomorrow morning, start over with her, and no one would say a word in protest.  
  
“Wonder how the bird got that idea,” Jackson chooses to say conversationally, and Nayeon puts the glass down- if she’s put off by his lack of enthusiasm, she doesn’t show it.  
  
“Your friend- the rich, quiet one,” she says, a mocking little tilt to her pretty lips. “He’s a lot more talkative in bed,” Jackson rolls his eyes internally- of course Mark would manage to screw up his life just a little bit more. “The bird didn’t talk, tonight, it sang,” she giggles at the thought. “So,” she swivels the barstool to face him, heels nudging his calves. “Ready to sing, oppa?”  
  
“There are many things you don’t want to hear, and my singing is one of them,” Humour is Jackson’s first line of defence, so he laughs as he gets off the stool, before setting down a bill on the countertop, something properly decided in him now. “Hope you like the drink- I’m late to meet someone. See you around.”  
  
He doesn’t look back- following Youngjae’s path right out of the living room, down the front stairs, walking silently all the way back to the dorms.  
  
*  
  
It’s almost one in the morning when he arrives at a particular door- the light’s still on, shining out from under the door, to his relief, and he just barely hears music, turned down quiet enough so it won’t disturb the neighbours.  
  
Jackson stands outside for almost five minutes, throat dry, summarising all the things he wants to say in his head, before raising his fist, and knocking thrice.  
  
Someone inside grumbles about  _better not be some lost drunk asshole_ , before there’s the sharp tap of footsteps, and someone opens the door.  
  
Jackson blinks, staring at the boy he’s only ever seen up close on the other side of a Youtube screen, and Bambam raises a brow, a smudge of white on the side of his face- he’d obviously been in the middle of some facial moisturising routine before Jackson knocked.  
  
“Hey,” he eventually calls back, rolling his eyes. “He’s here.”  
  
Jackson looks over Bambam’s shoulder, seeing Yugyeom get up, in a pair of grey sweats and a soft blue hoodie, a pen still in his hand, looking slightly amused.  
  
“You were the one talking about being up to here in homework, hyung,” he grins. “Why the sudden visit?”  
  
Jackson inhales, steeling himself. “We need to talk.”  
  
Both boys in the room tense a little at that statement- Bambam takes an awkward step back, glancing at Yugyeom for confirmation.  
  
The freshman’s frowning, a little confused, a little worried, and he half-shrugs, half-nods.  
  
“Uh,” Yugyeom says uncertainly. “Sure.”  
  
Bambam discreetly slides around Jackson to grab his moisturiser and a literature textbook, popping a highlighter between his teeth.  
  
“Well, then, I’m just going to uhm,” he looks from Yugyeom to Jackson, words muffled around the highlighter. “Step out for a bit. You guys have fun. Don’t touch my shit.”  
  
Jackson feels impossibly more uncomfortable as the door clicks shut quickly behind Bambam.  
  
“Is something…wrong, hyung?” Yugyeom’s still standing on the side of the room that isn’t bleeding fabulous, looking a little lost, and Jackson stands stiffly, inhaling deeply.  
  
“I have to tell you something,” he starts feebly. “About, uh, the night we met.”  
  
“…yeah?” Yugyeom looks thoroughly uncomfortable now. “What about it?”  
  
“I was-…” Jackson fumbles, not quite sure where to start the story. “I was drunk,” that’s a very bad start. “I was drunk, and I said something to Jinyoung-…you know who he is-…”  
  
“Yeah, the guy who sits on the Lit prof’s desk and calls him by his first name when he goes to ask questions after seminars, right?” Yugyeom says, still a little apprehensive. Jackson chooses not to ask how the younger boy even knows that, and forges ahead.  
  
“Yeah, well, so anyway, he uh, he asked-…uh. He dared me. To,” he grimaces. “He dared me to ask you out.”  
  
There’s a long pause after that.  
  
Jackson doesn’t even dare to look Yugyeom in the eye now. “I was dared to ask you out. But it’s not-…” he quickly adds, looking up worriedly. “It’s not like that now, I mean I-…I would. You know. Want to-…uh, wouldn’t mind dating you. Properly. Now.”  
  
If Jackson could, he would slap himself, but his arms feel like jelly. He can’t even run in shame, because his feet feel like blocks of concrete, locked into the ground.  
  
Yugyeom doesn’t look very surprised. Nor does he look very hurt. Maybe this is why Jackson’s so worried.  
  
“I’m sorry,” he says, voice cracking a little, so the words sound higher than they should be. “I just thought-…thought you should know. So if you wanna break up, now-…”  
  
“I knew.”  
  
Jackson blinks. “What?”  
  
“I knew you were dared to ask me out,” Yugyeom says, shrugging, averting Jackson’s eyes.  
  
“Since  _when_?” Jackson splutters. It was Youngjae, definitely, or maybe Mark was even more of an idiot than Jackson ever thought he could be-…  
  
“Since before you asked me out,” Yugyeom looks up, a hint of defiance smothered in the nonchalance he’s trying to portray. “Bambam and I sort of figured it out by the way you guys were talking and looking over. I thought you were going to ask him out, but then you asked me, so.”  
  
“All this time- you  _knew_?” Jackson wheezes. “Then why…? Why’d you say yes?”  
  
Yugyeom’s jaw is set, eyes dull with…anger?  _Guilt_? Jackson watches as he reaches down, into the wastepaper basket beside his table, pushing past crumpled pieces of paper and sweet wrappers, before lifting a ziplock bag, and setting it quietly on the table.  
  
It’s full of very familiar looking chocolates.  
  
“You were going to-…” Jackson’s voice goes unnaturally high.  
  
“I  _was_ ,” Yugyeom emphasises quickly, eyes darting to Jackson. “I wanted-…college was taking up so much time, I wasn’t able to stick around the rest of the guys so much anymore. I wanted to-…to impress Jaebum-hyung. To make sure I was still-…you know. Still his favourite.”  
  
Jackson’s reeling at the idea, breath catching in his chest. He takes a step back, and Yugyeom seems to catch that, panicking a little.  
  
“I don’t-…didn’t want to do it. I thought-…” he falters. “I thought the same way they did. I thought you were just rich and obnoxious and that you didn’t care about anyone. I heard stories about you, and I just thought they were all true: the ones about you drugging girls and breaking hearts and squandering your parents’ money, and even then, it-…it was wrong. And I know it’s-…I know it’s not like that now.”  
  
Despite the betrayal and his (severely ignored) survival instincts, Jackson doesn’t turn around and walk out right now.  
  
Instead, he asks quietly, “Then why didn’t you?”  
  
Yugyeom seems to clam up at that, walls up again- he’s having reservations, the same way Jackson is now.  
  
“You tell me,” he mumbles quietly, like the words are sticking a barb in his side. “Why didn’t you break it off earlier and go with Nayeon?”  
  
Jackson’s beginning to realise Yugyeom knows a lot of things he probably shouldn’t, and wonders why he didn’t join the dots earlier.  
  
There’s a standstill, now, in the battlefield, the confession they both share in no man’s land, both of them waiting for the other to budge first. It’s so unfair, Jackson thinks, because he was totally the one who came to Yugyeom’s door first, and it should be his turn now, but then again if he hadn’t started the dare then none of this would’ve happened, so it technically brings them back to square one.  
  
He squeezes his eyes shut and braces himself.  
  
“Because I realised I really liked you.”  
  
They’re both staring at each other, mouths still half-open from what they’d just said, not quite sure of what just happened. It’s surreal.  
  
Jackson, of course, opens his mouth first.  
  
“That was the cheesiest fucking thing that’s ever happened to me,” he announces, more to defuse the tension than anything, though he is pretty flabbergasted. “And I should be angrier about everything that’s happened, but I’m not.”  
  
What happens next transcends cheesy, Jackson swears, because he’s barely finished talking when he’s backed up against the door, and he takes a split second to realise, grouse over and subtly appreciate how much taller Yugyeom actually is than him, before they’re kissing.  
  
It’s so ridiculous Jackson’s skin is crawling. This is corny and stupid and resolving nothing, except he honestly feels a lot better than he has in months. He kind of likes it. And he should probably get that looked into.  
  
“That,” Jackson says indignantly, once they part for breath. “Was the cheesiest fucking-…”  
  
“You’re really noisy, hyung,” Yugyeom’s voice ebbs relief and exhaustion and happiness, all in one pained mix, and the sound of it brings Jackson one step closer to closing this part of his life off, and starting another.  
  
*  
  
(Bambam bangs on the door a minute later, grumpy and cold and complaining that his moisturising ritual will be incomplete if he doesn’t apply eye cream within the next forty-five seconds.  
  
The rest of the night is disappointingly normal- Jackson actually goes back and finishes his essay, because that shit is graded and if he doesn’t scrape something decent for this then next term’s going to be hell.  
  
He crashes after sending the essay in at 10am, waking up groggily at three in the afternoon to a cute text from Yugyeom asking if he wants to meet for video games tonight.  
  
It does such a good job of cheering him up he doesn’t even care when Mark stumbles in, hungover, covered in lip gloss and half-dressed, before knocking over their shoe rack and falling asleep on the floor.)  
  
*  
  
A month later, and Jackson’s still the only one smiling at dinner.  
  
There’d been a party at the Epsilon Theta house last night all of them had gone to, and Jackson had stayed long enough to laugh at Taehyung, who’d been dared to squirt whipped cream up a half-drunk Yoongi’s right nostril, which had resulted in the drunk college equivalent of World War II. Then Jackson had (with much swagger) left to crash Yugyeom’s place for Netflix and video games.  
  
(One girl did kinda notice him carrying two boxes of pizza and a cold 1.2 litre bottle of Dr Pepper out the back door, but then she tottered to the bathroom to throw up, so Jackson’s good.)  
  
Jinyoung’s fidgeting and wincing on his seat, clearly sore, Mark’s still hungover, vocally trying to remember what happened last night and where his various credit cards are now, and Youngjae’s brooding into his chicken slices.  
  
Jackson had treaded cautiously around Youngjae after that night, but the sophomore wasn’t reciprocating the awkwardness- Jackson had realised after a few days that the younger boy just didn’t remember what had happened that night.  
  
“Well someone’s clearly got sunshine coming out of their ass,” Jinyoung says irritably, after he’s thrown five insults Jackson’s way and none of them have managed to get a rise out of him.  
  
“Better sunshine than something else,” Jackson says sweetly, stuffing a pork dumpling into his mouth.  
  
“What, you mean like, shit?” Mark asks in vague interest.  
  
There’s a moment of silence after that, one that’s becoming alarmingly frequent. Jinyoung makes vomiting motions into his ramen.  
  
Jackson turns pityingly to Youngjae, feeling invincible enough even to joke around with the younger man. “You know, I still don’t get how you do it.”  
  
“Do what?” Youngjae asks blankly, with a hint of suspicion in his voice- Jackson had done this a few times, and while he was probably testing his luck, it was frustrating just sitting around and doing nothing about it.  
  
“Want to get into Mark’s pants, obviously,” Jinyoung rolls his eyes, and Jackson pauses with a dumpling halfway to his mouth.  
  
Youngjae’s staring at Jinyoung, Jackson’s staring at Youngjae, Jinyoung’s blinking, just realising what he’d said.  
  
“What the  _fuck_ ,” Youngjae hisses, and Jinyoung pales a little.  
  
“Whoa, okay, hang on,” Jackson declares, waving his dumpling around. “Let’s come to a democratic decision on this-…”  
  
“Huh?” Mark says through a mouthful of spaghetti. He swallows with some difficulty, before frowning. “Wait. This isn’t about the shit joke, is it-…”  
  
“No,” Jinyoung bursts out, pointing his chopsticks at him- the exasperation apparently winning out against the survival instincts. “No it isn’t, you stupid rich moron, and that wasn’t even a joke, it was a prime example of your sheer idiocy. We were talking about how Youngjae’s liked you since goodness knows when, and seeing you bed every person that shows the slightest interest in your dick or your money was kind of getting on his nerves, and frankly seeing both of you like this was getting on mine too.”  
  
Jackson’s wide-eyed, now, holding his dumpling protectively to his chest, watching fearfully as Youngjae glares daggers at Jinyoung, Mark stares at Youngjae, and Jinyoung looks defiantly at Mark.  
  
“Well uh, I’m just going to-…” Jackson tries to sidle out of the booth.  
  
“Wait,” Mark demands, directly to Jackson, the highest display of intellectual conversation they’ve had in a while. “Wait, did you know about this?”  
  
“Uh,” Jackson says, extremely unused to any sort of communication with Mark that isn’t about food, sex or what homework was due last week. “Uh, well, yeah-…”  
  
“Seriously?” Mark’s starting to look a little overloaded right now. “All of you? What kind of conspiracy-…”  
  
Jackson learns all sorts of new things about his friends every day, and today he learns Mark is capable of words beyond the monosyllabic.  
  
“I’m out,” Youngjae takes his tray and exits before things can get impossibly worse, sounding angry and hurt and embarrassed, and Jackson would feel sorry for him if he weren’t fearing for his life.  
  
“Well, don’t expect me to stick around,” Jinyoung shrugs, hobbling out after Youngjae.  
  
Jackson stuffs his dumpling into his mouth.  
  
“Wait,” Mark says, trying to wrap his small, pampered brain around the concept of someone liking him for something other than his money or his face. “Jackson-…”  
  
“I’m late to meet Gyeom, see you back at the room later, bye!” Jackson shouts through his mouthful, turning and almost spilling his noodles all over-…  
  
He swallows nervously. “Hey Nayeon.”  
  
Nayeon raises a brow, obviously unamused by what happened at the party last month. He’d been avoiding the entire sorority to the best of his ability, but it was difficult when Jihyo had eyes and ears everywhere. “And you are?”  
  
“Trying to get around you to return my tray,” he sweeps around her. “Hope you have a great night. See you around.”  
  
She rolls her eyes, but there’s no real venom in that- Jackson’s relieved, because he’s honestly not looking forward to limiting all his jaunts outside of campus to strictly daytime for the rest of the year.  
  
Things are looking up for the first time in months.  
  
*  
  
“Don’t talk to me,” Jackson says dramatically as he walks in, before falling onto the couch. “I’ve just had an episode.”  
  
Yugyeom glances back, before returning his eyes to the video game he’s setting up. “Sure.”  
  
Jackson looks over, annoyed. “Ask me what happened to make me so distraught.”  
  
“What happened to make me so distraught.”  
  
“Jinyoung just spilled the beans on how Youngjae’s wanted to be Mark’s one and only since forever,” Jackson sighs, the back of his hand on his forehead. “My life is always so full of  _drama_ , it’s terrible.”  
  
“Tragic,” Yugyeom comments. “Catch.”  
  
Jackson almost misses the controller that Yugyeom tosses his way. He settles down beside him grumpily, grabbing a potato chip from the bowl on the coffee table.  
  
“I’m surprised you weren’t the one responsible for it,” Yugyeom’s knee nudges his, and Jackson nudges back, trying to one up him, before realising belatedly that this isn’t the best idea he’s had in a while, because the last time Yugyeom “nudged” him properly, he’d been sent windmilling into the bed. “I thought you would’ve spilled it the moment you found out.”  
  
Jackson has absolutely no clue how Yugyeom even knows Youngjae, or the fact that he likes Mark, or how Jackson knows anything about this, but he’s starting to resign himself to the fact that the freshman knows everything.  
  
“You think too lowly of me,” Jackson says, actually confident of that statement, now. He crams a fistful of chips in his mouth. “It’s cute.”  
  
Yugyeom snickers, cupping Jackson’s chin and tapping his cheek with a finger. “You’re one to talk,  _hyung_.”  
  
Jackson pulls away, properly insulted and about to launch into a spiel about how Yugyeom obviously meant Wild and Sexy™, not  _cute_ , but then Yugyeom’s phone rings obnoxiously loud, rattling against the table.  
  
The younger boy makes an indistinct noise when he checks the screen, before tossing it back on the couch. Jackson chances a glance over, waiting a couple seconds before daring to ask.  
  
“Who was it?”  
  
“Junhyuk. We’re going for dinner tomorrow,” Yugyeom’s voice becomes unnaturally pleasant, like it does every time he talks about them. “He just wanted to text to say Younghyun’s not coming.”  
  
“So,” Jackson says, trying to sound conversational. “They were-…they didn’t mind? You making it official that you’re-…”  _leaving_  is such a bad word, so Jackson scrambles for an alternative. “Not dancing with them anymore?”  
  
“Nah, Jaebum says he saw it coming a mile away,” Yugyeom shrugs, trying to smile. “We’re still talking, so that’s good.”  
  
“You,” Jackson says carefully. “Take care of yourself tomorrow, okay?”  
  
Yugyeom chuckles, rolling his eyes. “It’ll be fine, hyung, I’ve been hinting at this for months, anyway. I’m just-…” he shrugs. “I won’t get to hang out with them so much anymore. That’s all.”  
  
Jackson can feel the disappointment in his voice, and shoulders him, uncertain of how else to check if he’s okay.  
  
“You’re joining the college modern dance team, though, right?”  
  
Yugyeom snorts. “Tried out last week. They didn’t want me- only accept those who’ve received  _formal training_ , and if I’ve never  _pursued dance seriously_  then I  _shouldn’t waste my time_.”  
  
Jackson makes a “tch” sound. “Tell me who did it- I’ve got connections in there, I’ll  _make_  them accept you.”  
  
“Don’t embarrass me further, please,” Yugyeom laughs- the sound’s a relief. “It’s fine, I’ve got Bambam and some guys from lectures to hang out with. And now  _you’re_  here nosing your way into everything I do-…”  
  
“Consider yourself blessed,” Jackson declares, turning up his nose. “Now how about we shut up and play. Then let’s go out and eat something unhealthy and fried. And get a milkshake.”  
  
“Sounds like a plan,” the freshman grins, selecting a game. “Thanks.”  
  
“For what?” Jackson’s sticking out his tongue, trying to select the most badass looking outfit for his avatar.  
  
“For being arou-…uh. An asshole.”  
  
Jackson squints. “You weren’t going to say that before.”  
  
Yugyeom doesn’t budge. “Sorry, I meant asswipe.”  
  
“Such language,” Jackson tsks, shaking his head.  
  
“I learn only from the best.”  
  
“And I suppose that would be me,” the older boy preens.  
  
“Yeah,” Yugyeom chuckles, starting the game. “I guess it would.”


End file.
